Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language - Стр. 191
1863 - Страниц: 405
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